CHAPTER 6

Todd was behind the wheel as the trio of ski instructors rode east. They were on Interstate 70, headed east, down to Denver and the hockey playoff match. It was late afternoon and the weather was clear. A flurry of snow had fallen the day before, but a fleet of CDOT plow trucks had kept the roadway clean of ice and debris.

Claudia was immersed in a problem, jotting notes on a pad, when she looked out the car window. They had just left Summit County and were entering the Eisenhower Tunnel, passing under the Loveland Ski area, a barebones ski resort popular with locals that sat atop the Continental Divide.

“How long to the Arena?” said John.

Claudia glanced at her watch. “From here, should take us a little over an hour if the weather stays good. Plenty of time.”

Claudia remembered the first time she passed through the tunnel, headed west to area ski resorts. A low-lying bundle of clouds circled the snow-capped peaks, lining the downward spiral route into Summit County. The mammoth vision stunned her. She felt as though she could have reached out and touched the clouds. Thick dark-green forest lined the road, forming a base around the jagged mountains on either side of I-70. Loose-gray shale rock accumulated in vertical loads, lining tall avalanche chutes, filling the base with piles of snow and scattered rock.

Entranced by the view, Claudia stopped her car, pulling into a rest area on the side of the road.

A voracious reader, Claudia thought of Ayn Rand’s tome, “Atlas Shrugged” as she sat there enthralled by the view. Rand’s novel was a libertarian story about a group of engineers who left civilized society to build their own colony, a location described as a hidden cloud-covered valley in the mountains of Colorado. Claudia was certain the author had envisioned the story setting after seeing the entrance to Summit County. Rand’s book was written well before the construction of the tunnel through the base of the Continental Divide, so Claudia assumed she had taken the overland route now used by hazardous material trucks, up and above, atop Loveland Pass and over, a separate entrance into Summit County that passed through the Arapahoe Basin and Keystone ski areas.

The North American Continental Divide, sometimes called the Great Divide, separates the watersheds of the Pacific Ocean from those of the Atlantic and Arctic Oceans. It runs from Alaska through western Canada, along the crest of the Rocky Mountains to New Mexico and downward, all the way to the tip of South America.

The Continental Divide also acts as the demarcation point that separates the western ski areas from the “Front Range,” as it is known, the area east of the mountains. The Eisenhower tunnel, officially the “Eisenhower-Johnson Memorial Tunnel” is actually two tunnels, bored in the center of the Divide, linking the Front Range with the mountainous regions of Western Colorado. The fastest way for the skiers to get east or west and avoid the Loveland Pass climb over the Continental Divide is on the Interstate and through the tunnels.

Claudia and her friends passed through the tunnel and continued downward, staying on I-70, the main artery into Denver and its suburbs. Claudia loved the scenic route into Denver. Further east of the tunnel, peppering the side of the Interstate, were old mining towns like Silver Plume and Georgetown; towns that looked and felt like the old West was alive and well. Claudia chuckled as she remembered the first time she read about Georgetown, and its colorful former mayor, Koleen Brooks.

She read the stories while she was still in Boston attending graduate school. Claudia generally ignored the news, but this was a Rocky Mountain story, and she could not resist. It said everything about the liberated nature of the West and the former mining town known as Georgetown.

“Did you vote in the mayor’s race?”

Claudia poked John. She had an impish grin on her face. They had just passed Silver Plume and were headed into Georgetown.

“Let me guess,” said John. “We’re talking about the Georgetown mayor’s race a few years back?”

“You probably voted for her,” said Claudia.

“I didn’t live there then, and I don’t live there now,” said John.

“Doesn’t matter, you probably gave that woman money. All the men up here loved her.”

Todd turned to John. “Knowing Ms. Kohl the way I do, I would suggest that this is not a good argument. Better that you nod your head and say ‘Yes dear.’”

As instructed, John nodded his head.

“Yes, dear.”

“Much better,” said Claudia, returning her attention to the notepad on her lap.

Claudia alluded to the Georgetown mayor’s race, from several years earlier. The story made international headlines. Aspen had the late Hunter S. Thompson, the eccentric author and chairman of “Gonzo journalism.” Georgetown had its mayor, Koleen Brooks, an outlandish topless dancer and pot-smoking politician.

Known for its easy going nature and laissez faire politics, the City of Georgetown gained international media attention when the former topless dancer ran for mayor. Koleen had the support of the diverse populace and won. The election of Koleen, many believed, said more about Americans and their widely held view that their elected officials were idiots and thieves, most of them less qualified than Koleen and a lot less attractive. The small former mining town had a chance to make a statement about politicians in general and they did. The Georgetown Police Department had a different spin on the election and did not find it humorous. Several widely publicized skirmishes with the department and a jail term later, the Georgetown politician became a legend every bit as colorful as Molly Brown.

The sportive mayor was a favorite of young-male, female-starved, minimum-wage Australian and Kiwi ski lift attendants that inhabited the mountain resort towns.

The trio continued down the Interstate until they reached Golden, a town owned and operated by the Coors Brewing Company. They turned east onto Sixth Avenue, headed into downtown Denver.

Denver, Colorado was a historical town, a city that earlier had served as the nineteenth century commerce hub of the West; a town designated the “Queen City of the Plains” by the wealthy Leadville silver miner, “J.J.” Brown, the late husband of the Titanic survivor Molly Brown. Modern Denver was the major jumping off point for snow sports enthusiasts from all over the world; a key source of Colorado commerce. The close proximity of Denver and its airport to the Rockies made the Rocky Mountain ski resorts the most accessible ski runs on the planet.

Todd had decided to impress Claudia with a suite in The Brown Palace, aptly named after Molly and her late husband. Not a usual destination for mountain-dwelling ski instructors, “The Brown,” as it was known, was a Denver national treasure located in the heart of the financial district. Opened in August of 1892, The Brown Palace was a hotel known for its visiting presidents, dignitaries and celebrities. An ornate architectural masterpiece, the Brown was designed in an Italian Renaissance style, with twenty six carved medallions gracing the seventh floor exterior, each depicting a native Rocky Mountain animal. The jaw-dropping interior opened into an atrium lobby, eight stories high, the opening surrounded by cast iron railings and ornate grillwork panels. Imported Mexican onyx lined the interior.

Claudia was shocked when Todd stopped in front of the hotel and gave the valet his keys.

“The Brown?” she said, “Who’d you rob to get a room here? I don’t think I’m dressed for this place.”

Todd smiled, knowing he had impressed Claudia. “Pretend you’re a celebrity. They dress like slobs these days.”

“No, really,” she said, “I don’t want you to spend this kind of money.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry. A client’s ex-husband made the arrangements. A corporate suite, no charge. It’s a bit of a walk to the arena, but we can catch the shuttle.”

The elegant brass-lined entryway was held open by a man wearing a top hat and tuxedo. Claudia smiled at John. “This is going to be fun.” She looked at Todd, impressed.

“Nice work.”

***

Denver was aglow, the streets teeming with hockey fans. The three skiers rushed up to their rooms, dropped off their bags, and scrambled back into the streets.

“This is great” said Claudia as they mixed in with the crowds that were headed to the Arena.

“Yes, it is,” said Todd, who gave John a knowing smile.

Claudia was of the same mindset as most Coloradans, who were addicted to the hockey puck mania and the Denver Avalanche. They maneuvered through the dense crowds as they worked their way to the arena entrance. Late arriving cars were in gridlock, jamming the entranceways as pedestrians wove through the traffic and streets, headed for the match.

The festive stadium crowd was patient and content as they waited to cram themselves into a line of single lane turnstiles. But they gladly did so, knowing that they were the chosen ones, the select few blessed with tickets for the year’s most talked about playoff match. Todd, Claudia and John were center stage in the crowd. They were calm as they moved forward with the slow clump of humanity surrounding them. Claudia normally abhorred large gatherings of people, but this was different. She was effervescent, excited to be at the playoff match. A strong and purposeful female, she knew Todd and John had played her passion for hockey to win her company, but she did not care. She loved hockey almost as much as she loved skiing. Todd, excited to be with Claudia, could hardly keep his eyes off her.

John became distant in the dense crowds. Unlike his normal animated self, the ski instructor became pensive, almost nervous, as he scanned the horde around them.

Todd entered the turnstile first, followed by Claudia and John. They maneuvered their way through the spectators and searched for the gate that led to their box seats.

“There,” said Todd.

They passed around the entry crowd, jogging up a vertical ramp that led into the main stadium. Todd handed the three tickets to an usher, who nodded to a young assistant, who walked the trio to the most coveted seats in the stadium. Claudia noticed that spectators in the cheaper venues watched with envy as they were led to their seats.

“How’d you manage to get these seats?” said Claudia.

“An old client. I’ve been teaching his family and friends for a number of seasons. I knew he was rich, so I asked him if he knew how I could get some playoff tickets. I told him I wanted to entice a beautiful woman who had captured my heart.” He looked at Claudia.

She bowed her head, embarrassed by his comment.

“He gave me his box seats, without hesitation. …And he wouldn’t take any money.” Todd pointed upward. “I think he might be in the owner’s suite tonight.”

Claudia was grateful that Todd had gone to so much trouble for her. She pecked him on the cheek.

“That was sweet.”

Todd’s face turned color and he turned to the stairs.

“Time for a beer run. I’ll be right back.” He bounded up the stairs and headed to the concession area.

Claudia and John took their seats. John remained quiet. He looked up, behind the seats and continued to scan the crowd. Claudia was becoming uneasy about John’s behavior, but kept silent.

Todd returned with three beers. Claudia held them until Todd was seated. “Thanks,” she said. She passed one over to John.

“No thanks,” he said.

“No beer?” said Todd. “Claudia, check his temperature.”

Claudia looked at her friend, worried about his behavior. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m driving,” said John.

“Right. When has that ever stopped you?” said Todd.

“We took the shuttle,” said Claudia, “and we’re not driving anywhere tonight.”

John shrugged in response. He gazed at the upper level, preoccupied with another thought.

All three were drawn to the center as the crowd roared and the teams came out on the ice. Claudia and Todd were on their feet, screaming for the Avalanche. They took their seats until a few minutes into the first period when a Denver player scored. Todd and Claudia were back on their feet, jumping in place, shrieking their support.

Todd and Claudia took their seats when the crowd calmed.

“You know, you’ve been pounding pretty hard,” said Todd.

Claudia nodded. “Yes, I have.”

“I thought you could use a break,” he said. “And it seems to have worked.”

“Yes it has.” Claudia softened at his kindness. “Thank you.”

The match continued with Todd and Claudia jumping out of their seats with each major play.

John kept his eye on the crowd around them.